


(hush little baby) don't you cry

by sweetwatersong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton's Farm, Family Feels, Lullabies, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 03:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16508306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: The lullabies of the Red Room are far different from the ones sung here in Lila's bedroom.





	(hush little baby) don't you cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andibeth82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/gifts).



> For andibeth82, who prompted "OT3 fic. Lullabies" years ago. Congrats on your amazing news!

Natasha is not used to kindness. The kind of songs that would accompany her sleep - not soothe her into it - would be what Medea may have hummed to her children, what Daedalus murmured to Icarus in the shifting shadows of the maze. That they would burn the world, that they would change the sun, that they would see the end of it all and choose to face it with their eyes open, their children asleep. She knows those songs, recognizes them even if she cannot understand them, cannot empathize with them. She will never have children of her own to watch Death take, to destroy with her own hands or to lull with false promises. 

The Red Room sang her into the night with screams and sighs and the rattle of metal chains, the lullaby of her childhood, and it weaves through her drifting sleep to this day.

It has taken her a lifetime to learn that there is another kind of song, another kind of tune that mothers whisper to daughters and croon to tiny sons. It is soft and comforting and kind, always kind, with promises of happiness and warm days to come when they wake. Words to tell them to sleep easily, peacefully, knowing they are cared for and watched over.

Words to tell them they are loved.

Cooper will never doubt that, Natasha realizes as she watches Laura sing quietly to the restless infant in her arms. Lila will never wonder if her mother cares. The nursery lights paint Laura in warm golden tones while she goes through the steps she’s tried and tested, honed to an art: a gentle sway, a tune that rolls through her bones and soothes Lila’s fussing, a smile that shows even through her exhaustion.

Laura’s children will never find lies in the lullabies of their childhood.

A movement in the hallway catches her attention and she turns her head to see Clint approaching from Cooper’s room, his feet silent on the carpet of the hallway. She smiles at him as he joins her in the doorway to watch Laura coax Lila to settle and sleep; watch, and wonder.

This is not a scene she ever could have imagined as a child: Clint’s broad shoulders beside her, Laura’s easy singing weaving past her, a sense of warmth and security and such love emanating from the farm house around her. To be happy, to be loved, to be free to love who she will - none of these are things her own lullabies ever promised. But she is here, against all expectations, and though she missed these days in Cooper’s early years, she is here for Lila’s, for all the days to come.

Clint’s hand settles on her hip. Natasha takes the silent invitation and leans her head against him as they watch Laura tell their child how much she is loved, how much she is cared for.

She will never have children of her own flesh and blood, but she has Clint and Laura, Cooper and Lila. That is nothing she could ever have dreamed of. This is a lullaby all her own.

And this is her promise: when she has learned these new songs, she will sing them to their children too.


End file.
